What I Have Done
by devils-horns
Summary: Alfred decides to come out as bisexual to Arthur. Arthur doesnt react the way Alfred expected.
1. alone in thought

Alone, on a curb in New York City, sat a man. He had nicely combed, sandy blond hair, although there was a portion sticking up to the right. He wore a suit, and couldn't be older than 20. He was alone, aside from the staggering drunks, police officers, and couples coming home, eager to get laid after a long night of partying, who would occasionally walk down the streets. And of course, the taxis. But this man wasn't attempting to hail one, or even get home. He seemed perfectly content sitting on the curb. Although "content" was not exactly how one would describe this man. "Lost in thought" would be a better way of putting it. he was in no way homeless or an alcoholic, but the few people on the street seemed to so, shooting him dirty looks, one woman going so far as to throw a dime in his direction. But he disregarded it, still thinking. And what was he thinking about?

Across the ocean in a pub in London, sat another man. This man had messy, uncombed blond hair, although his most distinguishing feature was his eyebrows. He was also wearing a suit, his being a bit more professional and proper-looking. He sat, or more _collapsed_, on a barstool, head in his arms, and generally, depressed. He was one of the few left, seeing as it was almost morning. The pretty young bartender poked him, checking to see if he was passed out. He wasn't, of course, he simply chose not to respond. She left him alone, assuming he would wake up later with what would seem like the worst hangover ever experienced, and limp home. But no, he was lost in his alcohol-induced thoughts, over his current life, his past, anything and anyone that might cause him to feel sad in any way. But somehow, he held in his tears. His reputation, or what was left of it, would be destroyed if he was seen crying. Not like it hadn't happened before, but then, he was with a friend. '_A friend who is now gone_' he thought, causing a small tear to form, despite his effort not to.


	2. reasons behind these thoughts

The first man, over in New York was, coincidentally, thinking of the second man, or rather, what he should tell him. The two had known each other since the first man, known as 'Alfred', was only a child. The second man, Arthur, had found Alfred alone. Both his parents were gone, so Arthur became Alfred's "older brother". Although they never thought of each other as related, Alfred was almost never away from Arthur. They were great friends. But as Alfred grew older, they also grew apart. Alfred had always had some inexplicable feelings for Arthur. But only when Arthur left did he discover what these feelings truly meant. When Arthur came back, Alfred didn't dare admit to him what he had been harboring, partly out of fear of being shunned, partly out of fear of being rejected. He hid them from public view for what seemed like ages, but in reality was only a few years. Then he and Arthur had their little "going out". Alfred, aged 18 at the time, and Arthur, 22, disagreed over a few moral ideas. Arthur, bullied by his own older siblings and forced to grow up too fast, and Alfred, not liking to be told what to do, too late. Looking back on this, it was the stupidest disagreement the two had ever taken part in, but then, it was war. War, which ended, not with a peace treaty, but Alfred storming out of Arthur's house. He refused to even go near the place after that, not even to retrieve his belongings. He simply got a job, bought a crappy apartment and crappy furniture, and lived on his own. It had been a year since the two had even spoke. Alfred, now 19, was over his childish mindset that caused them to have the feud, and he missed Arthur. The blind hatred blocked his love for him that day. He wanted to go back after a week, but he couldn't. He didn't want to appear needy of him, that was the purpose of his argument. He wanted to prove he could live on his own. Arthur was also the one to hold a grudge. Alfred was certain that he couldn't even walk within 1 kilometer of Arthur's property without him yelling "I told you so" and chasing him away, which Alfred couldn't take. Alfred wanted to go back desperately, now. Wanted to say he was sorry, he had changed, that he loved him. But he couldn't, thanks to what he had done.

Lying in his own pile of twisted limbs and despair, Arthur sat at the barstool in the pub. His thoughts had already strayed to his old friend, he was already about to cry, why not just embrace it at this point? When he had found Alfred, alone in a foreign land, he couldn't help but pick him up and take him home to search for his parents. When no signs of them were found, Arthur simply kept him for himself. He was 14 at the time, and Alfred was 10. His older brothers had all grown up and they left him to do what he wanted, his parents were dead as well, and Arthur understood what it was like to be alone. He had only recently moved to America, however, using tricks and a few illegal tactics, he acquired a house of his own. Alfred lived with him for a few years, until the now 17 year old Arthur had to go back to his home, England, to help a sibling. He had lived on his own at 13, he assumed Alfred could do the same. So he left him there. When he got back after two years, Alfred seemed to be hiding something. But Arthur didn't care what. It couldn't be too important; Alfred wasn't what some would call 'bright'. So he lived with it for a few more years. Until that one day. Alfred thought he could live on his own. But with Arthur's newfound age and experience, he wasn't ready to let him go. Or was it his 'age and experience'? Either way, Arthur wouldn't let Alfred leave. Last time Alfred lived on his own, he came back to the house in shreds. It took a lot a cleaning to get it back in order. Alfred kept insisting that he was ready to leave, what being 18 and everything, but Arthur refused. It eventually ended with Alfred leaving. Arthur had no idea where Alfred was now. Shortly after the two lost contact, he had moved back to London. The ghosts of Alfred and Arthur together haunted that house. He packed up all of Alfred's belongings and brought them with him, putting them in a room and locking it, in case Alfred ever found him again. Arthur had no idea why he did this. He hated Alfred after that fight. Hated him so much that he loved him. And he loved him so much that he hated him. But he could never make things right himself, because of what he did.

Drunk and almost passed out, Arthur was bawling his eyes out in the now empty pub.

Alone and resting, Alfred had tears streaming down his face by the road.


End file.
